The Story of SheRa
by Delyrium
Summary: A retelling of She-Ra, from beginning to end. Only a little bit now, but hopefully more to come! I welcome any review and critique. This is also my first uploaded story, so any formatting advice would be helpful also. Hope you enjoy!


Disclaimer: I do not own She-Ra or any characters preexisting this story.

**The Story of She-Ra**

By Delyrium

Prologue

"But whatever happened to She-Ra?", the little boy asked. It took a moment for the other chattering voices to register the question and quiet down. They looked at the story-teller eagerly. All of the adults and many of the children knew the answer to this question already, but it was the most told and most eagerly listened to story in all of Etheria.

A floppy lilac hat cast shadows onto the Madame's face, but all those looking could make out a smirk coming from the shade. The story-teller paused as though making up her mind. "She's up there," said the Madame, pointing a gloved finger skyward, "in the sky. Watching over us."

A giggle passed through the audience, but the questioning boy asked, "But is she dead?" The laughter stopped. It was a serious question, and not one that could be answered lightly or by just anyone. The Madame was not anyone, and made an attempt.

"I don't believe she's dead, no. I believe that her time here was passed, and she went to some other place to defend others who couldn't defend themselves. And remember her last words to us," and now the audience spoke along with the story-teller:

'_In your darkest hour, when your heart is heavy and body tired, when you have no weapon to wield, just hope - and I will be with you!'_

A tiny ball of moisture appeared at the corner of the Madame's eye, but no one could see it. She was not the only one there without dry eyes. The heat of the fire they gathered around quickly returned her face to composure.

The boy said, "Did she really say that?", and the Madame answered, "Of course she did. And I should know - I was there." A murmur like a tremor rode through the captive audience. The show was turning out to be more exciting than they expected, even if more than half didn't believe the Story-Teller. The entirety of the Whispering Woods wouldn't be big enough to hold all those who claimed to have been there when She-Ra left Etheria.

One girl couldn't contain her excitement. "Oh, tell us about She-Ra!" Cheers from all around supported the request.

"Oh, dearie my. But She-Ra had so many adventures, I wouldn't know where to begin."

"Start from the beginning!", a man laughed, but others called out in agreement.

The Madame paused again, longer this time. The beginning. What was the beginning? Did it start with the Horde invasion? Or before that, well before that, with the twinning of the worlds? Perhaps this particular story didn't start until a magic sword was held aloft a young woman's head and the words, "For on the honor of Greyskull!" were proclaimed for the first time, in an announcement that would shape the lives of everyone in Etheria for years to come.

"The beginning. All right, I think I have it. In the beginning, there was once a young woman named Adora."

Welcome the Force Captain

"Adora!"

So focused on lessening her nerves, the young woman almost did not notice her name being called. With golden blond hair that fell right below her shoulders, and clear blue eyes that seemed otherworldly, Adora did not match the harsh gloom of Horror Hall.

With a nod of her head, Adora pushed open the iron doors before her and marched out onto a long black carpet. The room was something akin to a ceremonial hall, and around her, dozens of soldiers in their silver armor stood to attention. It was not Adora they showed their respect to, but rather to the whispy, cloaked woman at the end of the carpet. This gang was the army of The Horde, and today was Adora's Rising.

When she reached the end of the path, Adora bowed to one knee, her eyes cast downward. "I am but a weapon of the Horde. Hail to Hordak! Hail to Horde Prime!" The cloaked woman before her, Shadow Weaver, nodded, and lithely gestured upward with a gnarled hand. Adora rose to her feet.

"Today we are gathered to honor a sacred privilege." Shadow Weaver's voice was that of a dying snake, or perhaps the driest of leaves whirling through a sewer grate. Adora could feel the syllables crawling over her flesh. The sorceress continued, "I use the word 'sacred', because The Horde is not just an army, but an Order. Not only a way to power, but a way of life. To be of The Horde is to be of something far greater than oneself. To be of The Horde is to be a part of creation." She looked straight into Adora's eyes, as though discerning something. Adora tried to hold her gaze, but flinched, and cast her eye on the empty throne that stood behind Shadow Weaver: Hordak's throne. "Today is a sacred day," Shadow Weaver continued, "Today, Hordak's army has a new Force Captain."

Cheers erupted out of the formerly stringent spectators. Adora smiled in a rare display of self-congratulation. It was not every day that a Force Captain was made.

"Adora of Lunar Guard, what have you to say?"

Adora crossed both hands over her forehead in the shape of a bat - the symbol of The Horde. She lowered her arms and declared, "I swear to be the fist of The Horde! I will be the hatchet and the scalpel! All will bow to me, and through me, all will bow to The Horde!"

"Who is your master?"

"Hordak of Horde One!"

"Who is your savior?"

"Hordak of Horde One!"

"Who-"

"Enough." Silence. This was a new voice. It was a crocodile stalking its prey. Adora did not need to turn around to see who it was. She stood still, attempting to stay composed, and mostly succeeded. Shadow Weaver had no such luck. The woman (if she could still be called that) reeled backward, grasping the throne behind her for stability.

"Hordak!" she gasped. "What-I wasn't expecting you. To what do we owe this… this honor?"

"As I understand it," Hordak said, "We have a new Force Captain. If this woman is going to be leading an army of mine, shouldn't I test her mettle?"

Hordak, who had entered from the same doorway as Adora, moved forward. He was a creaking contraption of steel and gears, more machine than human. Forged to perfection in the fires of a Hordeworld, or so the legend went. His piglike face was imbedded in a metal seat, which was connected to a robotic body capable of deadly transformations. At rest, Hordak was dangerous, and at this worst, he was a walking massacre.

"Tell me this, _Force Captain_," Hordak strolled down the black path with chilling unconcern. "Are you willing to kill for me?"

Adora hesitated only a moment. "Yes, Hord-"

"Face me when you're talking to me."

"Yes, Hordak," Adora said while turning.

Hordak paused, then glanced at his arm. Something buzzed, and a compartment opened in his plating. He pulled an atomic blaster out of his arm and threw it at his subject. Adora caught it awkwardly. "If I were to give you a target," Hordak smirked, "right here in Horror Hall, could you kill that target?"

To Adora, the blaster felt wrong in her hands. She had always felt more comfortable with a sword than a gun. And the worst of Horde technology, that which killed in an instant or worse, reverberated with a cold cruelty that didn't appeal to her. Still, she answered, "Yes, Hordak."

Hordak smiled.

"Kill Shadow Weaver."

"My Liege!" The sorceress shrieked, retreating even further toward the throne, as though its inherent power protected her.

"Sir?" Adora asked, unsure as what to do.

"You heard me, _Force Captain_." He spit out those last words with contempt. "Kill Shadow Weaver."

"But sire, after all that I have done!" Shadow Weaver scurried behind the throne, trying to think of a spell, but her nerves getting the best of her. "After all I have given you!"

"Do you refuse, _Force Captain?_" Hordak asked.

Adora stood up straight and raised the weapon. "Never, my lord." She aimed the atomic blaster at the throne. Pulling the charger back, she felt the gun gaining energy and then…nothing. As a charge should have gone off, smoke emptied the blaster instead.

Horror Hall was filled with the frantic silence of minions too paralyzed by confusion to act. Neither Shadow Weaver nor Adora knew what to do. Suddenly, Hordak let out an enormous, bellowing laugh. It echoed around the emptiness of the large room, filling its corners like moonlight. The watchful army soon joined their leader, even if they did not entirely know what they were laughing at.

"Willingness to kill even allies," Hordak said, coming closer to Adora, "you will make a fine Force Captain, indeed!"

Adore released a smile that only showed the slightest falter. Around her, mechanized voices cheered.

Horror Hall was but one sector of The Horde's home base, the expanse of which was known as 'The Fright Zone'. It extended across Fever Swamp, which contained Hordak's fortress at the center. The entirety of The Fright Zone fell under a perpetual night, as though the sun wouldn't deign to shine on such a place. In reality it was the smog from Hordak's great machines that kept the light out.

Five towers and an enormous barracks made up Horror Hall. There was a tower at each corner of the structure, and one, the tallest, in the center of the barracks. At the very top of this tower was The Vision Room, where Hordak could speak in private with his creator. Below that was Hordak's personal room; presumably this was wear the leader of The Horde slept (or did whatever equivalent he had to sleeping), but it was most certainly where the inner planning's of The Horde's war took place, and only a select few were ever allowed access.

Adora sat uncomfortably in an austere iron armchair. The chair itself was not uncomfortable, but Adora could not be at ease in Hordak's personal dwelling, especially not while Hordak stood before her. The creature was standing by a bar, pouring himself a black drink with a smell that made Adora's arm hair stand straight up. The room's décor was a bit warmer than the rest of Horror Hall, and was strikingly hot compared to what Adora had expected of it.

"You know, I don't make a solider a Force Captain lightly." Adora stopped eyeing the room and looked at her master, sitting straight up. "Only a select few have been considered for the honor—and most now are dead!" Hordak laughed to himself while Adora grimaced. "Hmm…," Hordak rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "Octavia was the last I ordained who still lives, I believe. But she's stationed at the Coral Island. She never had a head for land battles, and that's exactly what I need now. Bright Moon cannot be allowed to stand."

Adora nodded before considering what this meant. Bright Moon was the Kingdom directly southwest of The Fright Zone. It was a large kingdom, but more importantly, it had a powerful army, the Angylrii, protecting it. Adora had known that Bright Moon would have to be captured for a complete Horde takeover of Etheria, but Hordak's implication that she would be the Force Captain in charge of its conquering made the gravity of her new appointment quite clear.

"That's where you come in," Hordak continued as though he had read Adora's mind, "You will be in charge of the siege of Bright Moon and the Whispering Woods."

"It's an honor, sire," Adora said, not letting any emotion show on her face.

"It _is_ an honor, Force Captain." There was no hint of the irony that had laced Hordak's voice when he had spoken the words 'Force Captain' earlier. Hordak took a swig of onyx liquid and continued, "I wouldn't trust this mission with just anyone. Shadow Weaver—," he looked to this left, toward the door that led downstairs, then went on, "Shadow Weaver wanted to be the one to conquer Bright Moon. Actually, she wanted to conquer Mysticore first, but that would be a fool's choice. The Queen there is too powerful." Hordak put down his glass and wiped his mouth on his arm. "Shadow Weaver is too driven by her jealousy. And vengeance. A perfect war is not fought through vengeance but through tactic." Adora nodded. These were lessens that she had learned to Hordak's conditioning schools as a child. "And besides," Hordak came closer to her now, and leaned in slightly as though he was sharing a secret, "She would drive the charge with magic. You _know_ how I feel about magic. It's…messy."

"Wizards attack with words, soldiers attack with arms," Adora repeated from memory, one of an endless number of platitudes she had learned.

"That's right!" Hordak chuckled. "And it's with arms that you will take down Angela, and Bright Moon."

The door swung open with a clack. Shadow Weaver stood there cautiously, looking about the room. It was as though she could see the words that had been spoken about her, feel the condemnation of magic. But without any evidence other than the sense that something wrong had been said, Shadow Weaver swept into the room and spread out a large map of Etheria on a round table there. Adora noted that she, too, looked out of place next to the rich decoration.

"Forgive me, sire, for taking so long. That idiot Mantennae was using the map as a placemat while he ate his slop!" Shadow Weaver winced then, realizing her blunder. "Erm…forgive me, master, I did not mean to speak ill of—."

"Forget, Shadow Weaver. I will speak to Mantennae about his penchants for ruining priceless relics." Hordak put a rusty arm around Adora, and led her over to the table. "Now, Force Captain, let us speak of strategy."


End file.
